Possibly, Maybe Kosher Candy Girl
by CameronFry
Summary: First story in fandom. "Inspired" by a dumb candy bar I found at a previous job. Started out as pure fluff but then I started riffing on Judy and it became a strange mix of dark and light. Only tangenitally Faberry as it's more Judy/Quinn relationshippy.


(Possibly, Maybe Kosher) Candy Girl

Judy Fabray's breath caught in her throat and she held back a sudden urge to cry.

Supressing urges and overwhelming emotions wasn't new to the blonde paralegal. She'd wasted too much of her life doing that. Too many arguments surrendered to her ex-husband. Too many personal beliefs subdued and then buried beneath Russell's hectoring. Her liberal views sarificed to his mean intolerance and petty, jealous hatreds. The intelligent, whip-smart, loving young woman Judy McClelland had been through her youth and into her college days surrendered to a lost, angry man. Her identity crushed by the abusive, deadening embrace of Tom Collins and Xanax.

Too many opportunities wasted to stand up to her spouse and express her own views. Too many helping hands and warm hearts ignored as she fell into numb, docile compliance with a man she barely recognised any more. As she now pretended to smile - to persist - in church each Sunday morning, she frequently asked God why He'd let her sleep for so long.

In this strange, frightening new world of standing alone for herself (and for Quinn), in this cold world where every new battle to regain her dignity, to win back her daughter's trust and respect, was harder than the last; pretending was one of the few things she knew without a shadow of a doubt she was still good at.

The urge to cry she felt now however was an emotion she subdued only for the sake of societal norms. And for her daughter. Quinn would have been as horrified as the other customers were bemused, if her mother had suddenly burst into tears in the fruity snack aisle of the Lima branch of 'World Goods Emporium'.

She watched her daughter, her beautiful, proud, determind daughter, saunter happily among the aisles seemingly intent on molesting every possible piece of produce in this vast store that had been Quinn's favourite shop since she was a small child with a different name.

Her daughter had been postively... what... recently? Judy struggled even to find the right word. Joyous? Giddy? Incandescent?

Over the past month or so, Quinn had been a different person. Ever since the mysterious events of the Junior Prom. (Judy knew something had happened, between Quinn and Finn and Quinn and one of the other Glee girls. So much drama!). Her daughter wouldn't talk about it but the teen had been lighter somehow, less burdened, since that night. Slowly Quinn seemed to be shaking off the dull, listless and angry demeanour of the last three years.

(And oh how Judy had loved the Prom night portrait photo of her baby standing proudly, confidently alone. Her eyes sparkling with a confidence her mother hadn't seen in years. Quinn looked so strong there, smiling defiantly, possibly (hopefully) knowing that everything she needed to know could be found right there within herself. Now that photo took pride of place on their mantle in the home she had tried so much to alter, to rectify, to warm after the departure of her husband).

Now Quinn was singing softly to herself as she picked up and inspected the candy bars that masqueraded as healthy snack foods.

It was a showtune that Judy just couldn't place. She'd noticed her daughter singing similar tunes constantly for the last couple of weeks and had been surprised to find her Netflix list suddenly swamped with a huge amount of musicals. (Along with just about everything Barbra Streisand had ever committed to celluloid, oddly).

She'd realised it must be the influence of the show choir. The kids at the Glee Club really did seem to like her and accept her for who she was, not just what they could take from her, as everyone else seemed to. Again Quinn didn't talk about it much (they still weren't 'there' yet) but Judy had seen the benefits. The teen seemed brighter, more at ease. More like the happier, confident young woman Quinn had been as a child. Singing with the Glee Club seemed to have freed her. Finally.

It was a progression that seemed to have sped up in the past couple of weeks. Any tentative enquiry by her mother had been shot down immediately and Judy knew not to push too far too soon. She was satisfied to keep a watching brief while still curious as to what (or who?) exactly had lifted her daughter so.

She would be sure to thank that nice Mr. Schuester the next time she saw him, at least. She really wanted to thank someone, anyone. She was so grateful to him or whomever had played a part in making her child a little happier. Making her task of rebuilding not only their relationship but themselves just a little easier. And Quinn clearly had something new, something positive, something extraordinary, in her life. It wasn't necessary for Judy to know exactly what it was, she was satisfied just that there was something. A mother knows what is important to her child, even in a relationship as damaged as theirs.

She still shakes her head wearily as she's reminded so many times a day just how wretched and broken things had become in the last four years, as her lie of a marriage died its long slow death. It wasn't merely ("merely", ha!) the living hell that the Fabray family had become in the year before she'd let Quinn be cast out. (And she knew the Hell she was most certainly bound for could not be any worse than all she'd lived through. For all Judy knew Hell was the feeling of utter disgust she'd felt for herself as she thought of the scared, pregnant child she'd abandoned. That feeling. Forever).

No, not merely those horrors. Even the "good" things that were supposed to bring her daughter joy seemed to heap nothing but more pain, self-loathing and shame on her Quinnie. The grotesque carnival freakshow of high school "popularity"; the ridiculous false piety of the Celibacy Club her father (and by extension herself) had pushed her to lead; the naive rudderless aggression of "young love" over that strutting, swaggering, utterly lost child, Puck and that sweet idiot boy Finn, that poisoned her daughter's female friendships and ultimately led Judy to mourn still for the child and grandchild she and Quinn would never know.

Oh God, When she thinks what that awful Sylvester woman put her baby through. Every ounce of wheight fought for, cried over. Every training session wreaking havoc on her developing body. All those dead, soulless "smiles" plastered on Quinn's face that couldn't hide the pain; the knowledge that this was all so hollow, so worthless.

Damn it, Quinn can have all the candy bars she wants, Judy thinks. In all honesty she would happily see her daughter put a few pounds back on.

Heaven knows they both seemed happier when her girl carried the extra wheight in middle school. There were still days now when she perhaps overcompensated for their fractured relationship and she couldn't hold back with the lost endearments that harked back to when her baby was a cute, overwheight, troubled young teen with the nose God gave her. Her Lucy-loo.

(And bless her little girl for indulging her Mom now by responding to her when she was a little tipsy and called her 'loo-loo'. She knew her baby wouldn't allow anyone else in the world such an egregious presumption. Lucy was gone, Judy knew that, but Quinn would still allow her to see the small parts of the dear departed that remained).

She lived for those moments. Judy loved Quinn with the burning pride and feral intensity of a lioness, but she missed her Lucy too.

Oh God, in that moment, on the verge of losing it in a supermarket on a sticky Ohio day, she needed a drink so very badly.

But no. No more bad thoughts. Not today. There were still plenty of bad days and troubles to come with this force of nature she'd reared. This was one of the good days. New days. Days of surprisingly loose, easy socialising. Days of joking and teasing and girly fun with her beloved child on a sunny day in late May.

There would be no tears, even if in this instance they were happy tears.

Quinn threw a small maroon coloured snack bar into the trolley.

"Want that". She smiled and went back to singing and idly troubling the produce.

Judy picked up the bar and examined it suspiciously.

"NAKD?, she asked, pronouncing the word 'NACT'. "What kind of a name is NAKD, anywa...? Oh! Naked. Right".

There was no blush (she wasn't that staid, that stuffy and momsy she thought), but she felt foolish for a second or two. Quinn just grinned and Judy knew she was mentally notching up a point in the generation wars.

"So...", Judy examined the small print, talking to herself as she did. "Naked candy bar. Berry Delight".

Judy was suddenly indignant.

"'Gleefully made in Britain?', she snorted. "'Gleefully'? It's a candy bar! Was it made my Oompah-loompahs?"

"Oompah-loompahs, mother?". Quinn made her patented eyebrow arch of doom.

"Gay Oompah-loompahs by the sounds of it", the matriarch muttered.

Quinn appeared to freeze. She turned to glare at her mother with a look that froze Judy's heart. Oh god, she'd offended her. Had she been homophobic? Was that even a big deal for Quinn? She knew her daughter was remarkably tolerant and loving of others (given her bloodline and all) but she still wasn't entirely sure where the teenager stood on such issues, or on how much of her husband's petty meanness may have rubbed off on their child.

Quinn's eyes narrowed and her face hardened into what Judy had heard the girl's friends refer to as "Serial-Killer Quinn" face. It was a name Judy wasn't particularly fond of, but if the Quinn-sized hat fits. To her mom, of course, it was her 'Paddington Bear' stare and she could never take it too seriously. She knew her baby girl.

"ALL! Oompah-loompahs are gay, Mom!" She hissed. "It's the rules".

Quinn held her stern, accusatory glare for a moment before a mischievously angelic smile broke through. It took Judy a second to realise she was being teased.

"Oh, Quinnie. Stop baiting the old broad", Judy chided.

Quinn giggled, lightly punched her mom on the arm and danced a little way down the aisle.

Judy looked back down at the 'NAKD' bar in her hand, trying to ignore the many nagging 'old people' suspicions that immediately arose. "Didn't candy bars used to be bigger than this?"

Quinn nodded. "Yessiree! And they were called moon pies and they cost a nickel and you ate them to ward off the rickets, colsarnit!"

"Are you done?", her mother smiled.

Quinn tilted her head, making a play of thinking up one last crack. "And it was all in black and white!"

"Now I'm done", she grinned.

Judy shook her head. "Devil child".

Quinn pouted. "Are you finished examining every ingredient?"

"Just wait... 'Naturally free from wheat, gluten and dairy'", Judy read from the wrapper. She shook her head. "And the will to live by the sound of it".

"It's vegan friendly", Quinn stated haughtily. As though that would impress the woman with 12 pounds of vacuum-packed British bacon in her trolley.

"Isn't one of your friends from Glee club one of those?"

"'One of _those_', mother?", Quinn demanded, her eyes taking on a taunting lilt.

"A vegan... ", she shook her head and snapped at her daughter. "Honestly, loo-loo... I'm not Hitler. I'm not judging you all the time. Or your friends".

Quinn just smiled.

"Which one is it?"

Quinn looked confused.

"Your friends. Which one is the vegan?"

"_Rachel_". Quinn sighed, taking her mother somewhat by surprise as she'd made a simple name sound like a half-whispered promise kissed on the wind.

"Which one is she again?", Judy asked, her interest suddenly raised.

Quinn made the kind of irritated clucking noise that meant simply _'God, Mother... do keep up!'_

"Gay dads."

"Oh... yes. Gay dads. Right."

A light went off in Judy's head.

"Oh, that's Hiram's daughter. Hiram _Ber... ry_".

"Yep". Quinn smiled.

Judy looked back down at the candy bar in her hand.

"Rachel... _Berry_."

"Yep." A wider, dreamier smile.

"She's a friend of yours?"

Quinn's eyes clouded and her brow furrowed.

"I guess..."

She started but didn't seem sure how to finish the sentence. "I hope so..."

Quinn couldn't maintain eye contact, turning away a little and... was that?... Oh god, Judy couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Quinn blushing.

"I... I was really cruel to her. For a long time."

Judy simply nodded. Even though she'd asked little about Quinn's school experiences, she knew that was almost certainly true. She also recognised that Quinn clearly felt guilt about it and both women had no great desire to labour the point any further.

Quinn took the candy bar from her mother's hand.

"Canihaveitpleaeeeeeeeeease?", Quinn pleaded breathlessly with a sad pout her mother remembered had been a particularly effective tool in first grade.

"Hang on..." Judy asked, "Why are you even asking me? You've got your own money, Quinn".

"I didn't bring my purse. Because _you_ didn't tell me we were coming to _my favourite store_! I'll get you back later. Please, Mom, It's only 3.50"

"Only 3.50? Three. Dollars. And. Fifty. Cents."

Quinn nodded.

"For a _candy bar_?"

Again a nod. "It's imported!"

Judy remained unimpressed.

"Uh... It's British?", Quinn tried.

A shake of the head.

"It's good for me and stuff?"

Nada.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Come on, what's 3.50 for your darling daughter's happiness?"

As she'd become super-attuned to recently, Judy scanned her daughter instantly for any recrimination, any passive-aggressive edge to her choice of words. She breathed easier as she found none. Quinn was just being Quinn. Nothing could have pleased Judy more.

"Remind me to have that conversation with you again, young lady", Judy smiled. "The one about where your money comes from".

Quinn's eyes sparkled, as the girl shot back:

"It comes from Daddy. Where does yours come from?"

Her mother's face blanched momentarily, every muscle in her neck tensing, before a proud smile played on her lips. The woman bowed deftly to her daughter.

"_Touche_, Ms. Fabray."

Quinn grinned and courtsied, proud of herself. It faded as her mother's mood momentarily darkened. Judy reached for her daughter and pulled her into an urgent, crushing hug.

"It won't always be like that, Quinn. Yes it's your father's money now and I know Paralegals don't make much, but I'm only a couple of credits away from graduation. Once I'm done I won't have to be driving out to Tiffin any more and I can get a proper legal job in town."

She feared she was smothering Quinn, so intensely did she feel the need to make her daughter understand.

"_I'll_ be the one paying for your college, okay?", she whispered.

Quinn hugged her mom back just as hard, holding back tears.

"I know, Mom. You're doing great. You really inspire me".

"Thank you, baby girl." She kissed her daughter's forehead. "I am trying."

The women broke away with nervous grins. This was nice but is was also new. Besides, Fabrays still don't show emotion in public. That was one Russell-ism that Judy McClelland Fabray was more than happy to maintain.

"Talking of Russell's money. Let's get some lunch and then what say we head to the mall and buy ourselves stupidly overpriced dresses?"

"Oh god, yes!", Quinn cackled. She winked at her mom. "Thank you, daddy!"

Judy moved to push the trolley toward cereals. There was still much to do and she was eager for that lunch now, but her passage was impeded by her daughter who was now holding that damn candy bar. Waving it at her.

No surprise there, Judy supposed. The one thing her girl had never lacked was persistence. Now though she was also showing a malevolent gleam in her eye that Judy knew very well. Quinn was clearly in the mood for a little fun at her Mom's expense.

"_Stiiiiiiiiiiill_ want this, Mom".

Judy growled. (Three. Dollars. And. Fifty. Cents).

"I just want it inside me", the girl panted, making an overly stylised eating motion with the bar that was borderline obscene for a girl who had once been the pride of her church sunday school class.

Quinn was amusing herself dancing down the aisle again and didn't catch her mom's thoughtful gaze that was wheighing and measuring the situation. Judy cast her reel a little further.

"Are you really sure, honey? 'Naked Berry Delight'? It really doesn't sound very nice".

"I think it sounds heavenly", Quinn sighed. "Everything about it is gorgeous and I just want it in my mouth".

Her mother could only stare at her, taken aback slightly by her oblivious daughter's odd, challenging turn of phrase. She knew her girl was now in one of her flighty, giddy moods (and what a joy it was to have those back) and Judy was happy that their relationship had recovered to the point where Quinn obviously felt comfortable to push her mom a little, peppering their easy interaction with a frisson of youthful rebellion and attempts to shock her.

(What pleased and excited Judy even more was the realisation that for all her sins as a mother in recent years - and there were many, many sins as a certain Mr. Jack Daniels would so oblingingly and often remind her - her daughter had clearly forgiven her enough to treat her as an equal, a confidante. Maybe even one day soon as the friends they had once been and Judy prayed they could become again).

Not that Judy was prepared to be bested by her daughter's cheek. (Almost) graduates of Antioch College - Class of '89 didn't go down without a fight.

"So. Just to be clear, _darling daughter_: You want the Naked Berry".

Quinn grinned and nodded, sensing she was on the verge of a victory so grand it would be sung of by the bards for many moons to come.

"You, Lucy Quinn Fabray, want the 'Naked Berry Delight'... ", Judy shuddered slightly but stubbornly persisted. "..._ inside you_."

"_Ew,_ Mom. _Gross!_". Quinn was openly laughing, delighted with how much she'd apparently drawn from her buttoned-down mother. She poked the bear again. "But yes. Yes, I do!"

"_Fine_." Judy conceded, through a tight, unreadable smile. Grumbling, she handed her beaming daughter a twenty.

Quinn's snoopy dance of conquest was a joy to behold.

"Nearly four dollars for a candy bar, though", Judy muttered as Quinn set off toward the tills.

"Gee whillikerz, Mom, tell me again about when you were a girl, when five bucks would get you a movie, a fountain soda and a streetcar ride home!" Quinn taunted over her shoulder as she skipped to the check-out.

Judy satisfied herself with wondering at what point in their day her daughter would be struck by the inevitable realisation of what she'd been (apparently obliviously, but really... _how_?) alluding to for the last five minutes. She said a silent prayer that the good Lord would let her be present to witness it. Schadenfreude wasn't a real sin, after all. A misdemeanour at most.

It was at the check-out that the threads came together. And the walls came tumbling down.

Quinn smiled as she put the candy bar on the conveyor and handed the pretty ("_pretty_?"), cute ("wait... _cute_?") brunette college student the money. As she celebrated her victory, lifting her hard earned prize to her expectant (and for some reason she couldn't quite fathom, slightly swollen) lips, she sing-songed a tuneless ditty to herself: "Naked Berry in my mou...!"

_Fuck_.

It took a moment of panicked searching for Judy to locate her daughter, crouching almost doubled over at the recycling station on the verge of panicky hyperventilation.

"Quinnie, are you okay?", her mom asked, not a little smugly. "Why are you so pale, sweetheart?"


End file.
